Sweet-talking Mr India

Shekhar Kapoor lived in England; hence consequently, he should have acquired an accent as British as the Queen he has recently made a film about Elisabeth I. 8216;Cept the accent was all wrong. It was in need of a nasal drop. It was sort of twanging like a badly strung musical instrument. In other words, it was Indian pretending to be American.

Otherwise, he was perfect. He spoke so intelligently, so feelingly especially when you and Tim least expected him to. Sebastian it was and not Nisha Pillai who is normally thrust upon us when an Indian is on Hard Talk, possibly due to BBC8217;s misconception that it takes one to know another. Sebastian, on the other hand knows people, knows how to get them to talk.

Kapur had the measure of Sebastian. By the end of the conversation, Seb, who had begun in his usual belligerent manner, was very respectfully shaking Shekhar8217;s hand. Kapur spoke of his new film, his old film Bandit Queen, Phoolan Devi, his wife Suchitra and how perhaps making films was an attempt to reconcile the irreconcilable: the pin-striped chartered accountant and the flamboyant playboy. Remarkably, the answers he furnished were always just so; quite the best had to be when he explained why he felt Mumbai was home. To Seb8217;s growing astonishment, Kapur said Mumbai had taught him humility; that Hollywood and Bollywood were about grand illusions, Mumbai was about life. The very richest lived right next to the very poorest and that taught him the most valuable lesson of all: there but for fortune go you or I. Consequently, he didn8217;t believe everything he had achieved was of his own making or volition 8212; there was that simple twist of fate which had made all the difference.

He said this and much more, only he said it better. We8217;ve seen, heard Amitabh Bachchan and Shah Rukh Khan on Hard Talk to say nothing of numerous politicians; both were articulate, thoughtful. But Kapur had the idea of India, of being Indian and he was able to communicate that as no one has on TV.

Wish actress Mita Vashist had too. Said it better. She8217;s got what is called NET: Naturally Endowed Talent. Unfortunately, little or none of it was in evidence in her new serial, Ghum DD-2. Leastways, not in the first episode. What was more than evident was her body in a yellow frock. Why she was wearing a frock, why it was yellow colour coding? and why did the camera dwell covetously on both was never quite clear. Nor was the conversation between her and the man playing her father, which occupied the better part of half an hour. It was fairly incoherent and emotionally, about as gripping as a loose handshake; there should have been an electric current running between the two, generating heat, intensity; instead, there was a power shortage. Mita needs to recharge batteries if she is going to light up the screen.

Tea Time Manoranjan DD1. Actress Divya Seth was the best thing about it which is not saying much because there wasn8217;t anything else there. Ostensibly, three actors are supposed to be there, reducing children to hysterics with their performances. They are there to tell jokes, remix songs, recreate ads and generally goof around. Goof up is more like it. Not their fault: the script was poorer than the 40 of Indians who live below the poverty line.